October 30, 2013

There is a big fuss going on lately concerning the name of Washington DC’s professional football team.
Like a lot of the miasma that comes out of Washington, I have ignored this tempest as it does not interest me, nevertheless, apparently the term “Redskins” offends some people.
Since I don’t have a dog in this fight, I don’t really care much one way or the other. However, on general principle, I believe if the owner of the team likes the name then, he should be able to keep it. I object to people who don’t have any financial interest in a business telling owners they need to change an aspect of commerce because it is offensive to them.
Heck, there are a plethora of people and things in this world that I find offensive, but I believe they can be offensive if they want. I just ignore them.
Nevertheless if the Redskins owner capitulates and changes the name, I suggest he could choose to name the team “The Washington Thin Skins” or perhaps “The National Foreskins.”
Now the term “Redneck” is under no such pressure. In fact some of the very same people who maintain that Redskins is offensive , use the term Redneck with joy and delight. They hope using the term might offend people who happen to be rednecks. Which in fact it does not. All the rednecks I know are native-born Americans and the wear the term “Redneck” as a badge of honor.
They all have jobs, in fact they own their own businesses. Most of them feed America, either producing, transporting of preparing the food this country eats.

They drive pick up trucks. Work hard, get their hands dirty and pay taxes. They like to hunt and fish and preserve and conserve their precious land.
When not working they like to party. They appreciate good whiskey and good women. The are among the breed of folks that help build this country.
I had several of my redneck friends visit St. Louis this past weekend, and the town and I will not soon recover.
Unlike their last visit, just the guys came up this time. It was a party from the moment they boarded their flight.
We spent the days going from one watering hole to another in the perfect fall weather. As I was the designated driver, I let them do the big partying, while we all enjoyed the world series baseball and the great restaurants Saint Louis has to offer.
I got them safely back on the plane and back to work this week.
I like Rednecks, I hope they never change the name.

October 29, 2013

What infernal serpent Has lent you his forked tongue? From what pit of foul deceit Are all these whoppers sprung?

Deceiver, dissembler Your trousers are alight From what pole or gallows Do they dangle in the night?

…..The Liar, by William Blake 1810

Having been a chief executive at various times during my life, I have somewhat of an idea what a person in that position should know and do.
My role was managing a few thousand people in several cities with international connections.
Having this background and understanding that the biggest part of the job is KNOWING what your subordinates are doing, this recent spate of scandals by the Administration seems to me a deplorable situation… and the public denials are simply hogwash.
The President and/or his yes men, have lied to the American people in matters of deep importance.
From the Benghazi murders, to the Fast and Furious illegal activities, to the crimes of the IRS, patent denials came quick from the White House lie department that the President did not know anything.
In addition, the Unaffordable Healthcare Act train wreck apparently became a disaster without this President’s knowledge.
So, what did the President mean when he looked Americans in the eye and said if they liked their insurance plans and their doctors they could keep them? Oh, by the way, he added, for most people the cost will go down. More hogwash.
Now comes the embarrassing NSA mess of spying on our friends.
We have two-thirds of western Europe and half of south America mad at us for spying on them… our friends. Why would you want to listen to Angela Merkel’s phone calls to her dry cleaners anyway? She seems like a nice lady.
The White House of course denies knowing anything, but our spies say different and they have proof.
All of this leads me to wonder what the president does all day, if he is not finding out what his subordinates are up to.
I guess he decides what he is having for lunch, what golf course to play. Perhaps going over his football picks for the week or
placing orders for more Obama phones…and other pressing matters.
There are only two conclusions, one can reach in this sorry state of affairs, either the President really does not know what is happening around him or he is lying to the American people and the world.
Hardly the expected behavior of a recipient of the Nobel Peace Prize.

I think my late mother nailed this one 50 years ago when she said, ” All politicians are liars, and some are damned liars.”

The next time we select a President, we should require the candidate’s resume to contain a tad more experience than just a community organizer and a partial term junior senator.

October 23, 2013

With the World Series getting underway, many smart Americans turn their attention away from politics to enjoy our national pastime.
Having watched baseball for nearly all of my 65 years, I can say with a high degree of certainty that this makes a lot of sense as baseball is infinitely better than politics.

First, there are rules in baseball. Such as 3 strikes and you are out. Baseball even has an official rule book. These rules are inviolate and they permit baseball to peacefully coexist with its players and fans. Not so with politics. Government changes its rules all the time, and chaos ensues. There is no rule book in politics.

Also, as Tom Hanks notes, there is no crying in baseball. However, crying and whining are perquisites in politics.
In baseball, if you are a manager and you screw up, you get fired. Just Ask Dusty Baker, ex manager of the Cincinnati Reds.

In politics, if you screw up, you get protected or even promoted.

A few recent examples of this practice are:
–The Attorney General, has never been held to account for the illegal activities known as Fast and Furious.

–The IRS department heads despite being caught harassing political opponents of the president, have never been brought to account for their clearly un-American, illegal activities.

–The Secretary of State, has gotten a free pass over the tragic Benghazi affair. In fact, she is planning her own run for the presidency!

–And now we have the Secretary of Health and Human Services, being given praise by her boss while his showcase healthcare act is crashing like a gigantic Hindenburg. To top it off, she says the President did not know about the brobdingnagian problems with his “showpiece” plan.
That tells me two things, either she is lying and he did know of the problems, or if he really didn’t know then he is an incompetent chief executive for not knowing the status of his hallmark activity. Either way, in the real worlds of baseball and business, both he and his subordinate would be fired.
Baseball, after 150 years, remains delightfully true to itself and the patrons of the game. Politics sadly can not say the same.

October 22, 2013

My friend, Keith, is the executive chef at a fashionable upscale restaurant in my little town in southwest Florida. He used to work on wall street, but gave it up to pursue his loving of cooking.

As an old F and B ( food and beverage) man myself, I often hang out with him and discuss the business. We talk, kitchen techniques. menus, marketing methods and the stock market. So last week when he told me to stop by, it was not unusual.

What was unusual was it was a Sunday and the restaurant is normally closed on Sunday.

He said there was some kind of private wedding party going on, so I could hang out with him in the kitchen and at the bar.
I arrived about 1 pm and Keith was in the kitchen along with sous chef Brad getting ready for the event. After chatting for a while and not wanting to be in the way, I went to the far end of the bar helped myself to a wine and turned on the football game.
Shortly thereafter, about a half a dozen women dressed to the nines, showed up with flowers and presents. They started decorating tables in the dining room.

In a little while Keith returned from the kitchen to check on the buffet table setup and talk with the waitresses. He then joined me at the bar.

“What kind of party is this?” I asked.
Keith looked up to see the decorated dining room, took a sip of his beer and said, ” I don’t know, some sort of wedding shower deal.”
“Wedding shower! I don’t know what that is…never been to one.”
” Me either” said Keith, ” I just cook.”
With that, more women started to arrive and Keith went back into the kitchen, I returned to watching the football.
Soon, the dining room was filled with women all dressed to kill. A few came up to the bar for drinks and chatted while the bartender served them.
One older lady about 80 or so, sat next to me and began talking. She was very interesting- a walking, talking history book of the town. She told me the building we were in had been the town’s first and only bowling alley. It sported 4 lanes when it first opened. She also said she was born in the house next door in what is now a biker bar.
Grabbing her wine she said she needed to join the party, as she was the bride’s grandmother. I told her to have a good time and went back to the football.
Just then, Keith came back with a few shrimp he was serving and asked me to taste them.
“Perfect” I said. He then left to make sure the buffet was ready to go. The party was rolling pretty good judging from the laughter and clicking of high heels coming from the dining room.

I spent the next half hour or so talking to Keith and the occasional woman who came up to the bar for a refill. One smartly dressed young woman, who turned out to be the bride, even asked me if she could “fix me a plate.” Apparently, they all thought I was someone or something important just sitting at the bar like I was.

I declined.

Later, The ladies brought out a cake and began opening presents.

“Time to go” I said to Keith.

“Yeah, Me too.” He answered as we went out the door, leaving the restaurant to the ladies and their shower.

October 14, 2013

I have not written in this space for a while, basically, because I have not seen much I care to write about.
However, the recent actions by the Federal Government are just too insane to ignore.
First, the train wreck that is the Unaffordable Heathcare Act is blowing up in the face of many Americans as they start receiving their premium notice increases for next year. Some many hundreds even thousands of dollars higher than before.

But here, I don’t understand the outrage. Where did these people think the money was coming from to insure 50 million previously uninsured? Santa Claus? Pennies from Heaven?
Then the automated health system does not work, despite costing over $600 million in tax dollars to develop.
At the same time we have the government shutdown and the bogus debt default threat. (There will be no default and even if there was, it would not amount to much. More media and chicken little politics at work here.)
Finally, last week, we had the shameful treatment of American combat veterans and visitors to OUR memorials by the Gestapo park Disservice police…a disgusting outrage to Americans everywhere.

What a mean-spirited and deliberately hurtful action by a dictatorial, socialist, inept Administration which granted permits to illegal aliens to protest on the same National Mall. What is wrong with these people? Denying access to veterans, but letting lawbreakers use this hallowed ground.

Now, none of this has caused me distress because it is what I have come to expect from Washington. But today I read in the paper that the cab drivers in St. Louis are introducing a “vomit fee” of $200 to be charged to anyone who heaves in their taxi.
The fact that there are a sufficient number of these unpleasant incidences to warrant an official vomit fee posted on the taxi’s rate card is remarkable and distressing at the same time.
It makes me recall the time I had a job driving a cab while in college. I usually worked evenings so I could study while waiting for fares.
The worse time was shortly after 1 am when the taverns closed and we were busy picking up drunks too inebriated to drive.
I was fortunate never to have a fare that required vomit cleaning of my taxi, , but one time I took this guy to the hospital. He stunk so bad, I had to open all the windows for about 30 minutes to clear my cab of the stink. It was mid February and a bracing zero degrees outside.
Now that will wake you up!
People in that little town never tipped much, maybe a quarter now and then, so I never made much in tips. (One fare I picked up outside a bar did however give me 3 cans of beer for a tip, which I took back to my dorm for after work cocktails.)

I did not get rich driving a taxi, but I did learn a lot about people and how they have to live.

I think, there should be a rule that the President and every member of congress be required to drive a cab before being elected so they will better understand the importance of the electorate they serve.

September 6, 2013

Ok, we have a novice commander-in-chief, saying that Syria crossed his red line. Then he says no it wasn’t his, it was the world’s red line. We have a senile senator playing a poker game on his phone while he is supposed to be in serious discussions about going to war. The haughty Secretary of State is making nonsensical statements about “boots on the ground.” (Oh God do I hate that metaphorical euphemism ) Mr. Secretary, there are young americans in harm’s way in those boots!

Then we have the whack job senator from California saying that yes many americans are against this war, but they don’t know what” I “do. Well senator stop smoking that dope or whatever it is and reflect for a moment on how good our intelligence was in Iraq. Senator Finestein, you are not the smartest person on the planet.

Meanwhile trying to justify some sort of military action, we have pentagon generals who have no idea what the mission will be. A formula for disaster!
In the last 50 years I have seen this country go to war more times than any person should have to endure. In every circumstance it involved young Americans getting killed and wounded. I remain convinced that preemptive wars or punitive attacks do little to protect our country, but rather these gambits are done solely for domestic political gain.

We have done such a good job in Afghanistan, Iraq, Egypt, Libya and others, that yes, getting involved with Syria is the right thing to do.

Hell, we can’t even manage our own domestic problems!

If we are so bent on being the world’s policeman, how come we don’t attack other more powerful dictatorships and rogue nations who kill off their own citizens? China, North Korea, Iran. Pakistan come to mind. Killing people whether by chemical gas, firing squad, hanging or atomic bomb as America did to 250,000 innocent civilians in 1945 is still killing.

August 31, 2013

It all started on a beautiful summer’s morning about 15 years ago.

I was taking my boat across Charlotte Harbor to Bull Bay for some Snook fishing. I had just reached the mouth of the bay when I glanced at the steering wheel. There attached to the wheel was a monster pale yellow Cuban tree frog. I jumped back with a start and stared at the bug-eyed amphibian in terror.
Just then a puff of wind came up and the pale devil flew onto my neck, holding on tight with his creepy little hands.
Terrorized, I slapped at him frantically, knocking him into the water.
Still trembling, I search the cooler for a beer to settle my nerves.

Fast forward to last week,

Coming home after dinner with some friends, I parked my car and walked to the elevator. Pushing the button, while I waited for its arrival, I glanced down and saw the hideous yellow frog again. Now while my cognitive brain said it is not the same one, the rest of me wanted to flee in terror fearing amphibian revenge.

Just then the elevator arrived and the door opened. Before I could enter, the monster jumped into the conveyance and stuck himself onto the wall…again with his creepy little suction hands.

I slipped into the other side of the elevator and pushed my apartment number, all the while watching the damn thing and waiting for another attack.

As the elevator rose, I thought, what if he jumps out into my apartment? What will I do?

The door opened and I backed out of the elevator keeping a sharp eye on the yellow terror. After what seemed like a millennium, the door closed and I was free of the monster.

But wait, I have to go out in the morning. What will happen after a night in th elevator? Surely the evil amphibian will be more blood thirsty than ever.

All night long, I tossed and turned thinking how I might deal with this dangerous situation.

The next morning, armed with my tennis racquet, I pushed the call button and waited for the elevator door to open. I was fully prepared to knock the demon back to Cuba if I had to.

When the door opened, I peered into the elevator. To my surprise and relief, the frog was gone.

After making very sure, it was safe, I then rode down to the garage to retrieved my car.

As I was leaving, I waved to my neighbor, a sturdy little old lady who always reminds me of Mrs. Santa Claus. She was walking back to the elevator with a broom. I said “hi” and asked what she was doing sweeping so early.